


A Stucky Story - Infinity War Therapy

by SweetInsanityWrites (SweetInsanityArts)



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie) Spoilers, Feels, Fluff and Smut, Light Angst, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2018-06-27
Packaged: 2019-05-24 01:55:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,741
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14945438
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SweetInsanityArts/pseuds/SweetInsanityWrites
Summary: Starting with short one-shots, then going into a longer story revolving around Bucky's refuge in Wakanda, Steve's struggle with being a war criminal and, of course, the Infinity War.It will, therefore, contain spoilers for IW. There is also a sex scene in it, but mostly it's fluff and a bit of angst.I hope this will help you heal after the trauma of Infinity War.





	1. 01 - Young And Beautiful

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-Serum, Steve turns down Buck's offer to stay with him after the funeral

The door closed with a loud bang. Steve leaned with his back to it and slid down, crouching on the ground. He heard Buck's footsteps outside, as his friend slowly walked away, giving him the space he had asked for. And now he was all alone. The flat was so empty. Steve's heart felt as though it was gonna burst as a feeling of loneliness seeped in. He pulled himself up and walked towards the kitchen, desperate not to fall victim to his grief. He had promised he'd be strong, that he'd make it on his own. He wanted to be a soldier and soldiers don't have time to grief. They have to keep fighting.

Grabbing for a glass of water, he realized he was shaking. Pathethic. This was exactly the reason Steve had turned Buck down. For as long as he'd known him, he had been the strong one. When the neighbour's kids had thrown stones at them, calling them names, Steve had cried while Bucky stood in front of him, letting the rocks hit him, not flinching, just staring in quiet anger. The kids lost interest and went away. Bucky had wiped the blood off his friend's face, calmed him down and brought him home. The next day, the kids showed up to school with black eyes and bloodied lips. They never picked on them again. Steve had decided he wanted to be just like him.

And so he had done his best. He never ran from a fight, he always stood up for what was right, he tried to be tough and brave and strong.  
But today he couldnt be.  
And if Buck saw him like this, leaning over the counter, struggling to breathe, what would he think?

With a sigh, Steve slid back down on the ground, leaning his head against the wall, closing his eyes.  
He hoped it would all just end, let the pain go away, make everything be normal again.

A knock on the door woke him. Pain shot through his neck and back as Steve struggled to get up. He ran his thin fingers through his hair. Had he really slept on the ground like a complete idiot? His entire body felt stiff and cold.  
Look at me, the super soldier, can't even handle a night on the kitchen floor...

 

The knocking sounded again. He didnt want to answer. Didnt want anyone to see him like this, still in his funeral clothing, dirty and tired.  
Suddenly, the sound of a key turning in the lock. Steve jumped in surprise, his heart racing. The door opened slowly, a familiar figure pushing through.

"Didn't mean to scare you." Buck said soflty, holding up his keychain. "Back-up key, remember?"  
He did remember. His mum was worried he'd lose his keys and lock himself out, so she made him leave back-ups with friends. Well, his only friend, really.  
Remembering what had happened and the way he looked, Steve went hot with embarassment. "I- uhr- what are you doing here, anyway? I told you I'm ... fine." He smoothed his suit down, willing himself to look more ... alive.

His friend chuckled softly, walking to the kitchen to place a paper bag on the dinner table. "Brought you breakfast." He said, leaning against the table, gesturing towards the chair next to him. It smelled of eggs and bacon. The smell made Steve's stomach hurt.  
"...not hungry" he murmured. "I just need ... some space. Alone." He said, trying hard to be determined. His voice broke at the last word. Dammit.

"We've been friends for so long, Steve, do you really think I dont know when you're hurting? Eat. You'll feel better." He reached out, gently pulling his friend's sleeve towards him. "I know you're in pain. I know you're scared. But I won't leave you until I know you're alright. Feelings are not a weakness, they make us who we are." His eyes met his friend's, steady, calm and kind, smiling warmly. With a defeated sigh, Steve stumbled forward, ignoring the breakfast offer and leaned his body against Buck's, thin, long arms dangling uselessly at his sides.

Bucky folded his arms around Steve, holding him tightly, his stroking the thin blond hair. "It will be okay again." He whispered. Tears soaking through the dark fabric of the other boy's shirt, he nodded, wrapping his arms around him, burying his face in the familiar smell.

Now it would be.


	2. 02 - Angel With A Shotgun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post-serum, Mid- First Avenger, after Steve is reunited with Bucky

The sun was setting outside, casting golden lights over the fields, reflecting off the metal of the cars, weapons and armour scattered around the base.  
A soft mumble came from the tents, in the distance, the night shift guards reported for duty. Putting on a clean shirt after a a long shower, Captain America looked out the window, watching a shadow disappear into the woods. He tied his shoes, grabbed a small handgun - just in case - and made his way out to follow. The air smelled of rain and nighttime, creating a sense of something mystical and intriguing. Pushing through the branches, thorns scratching at his already raw skin, the Captain reached a small clearing, where the trees gave way to a meadow with a small stream, a few old, half-rotten wood panels littered on the grass. Leftovers of a shack? Lost and forfotten as the war drove the people away from the area.

Outlined against the orange light was the silhouette of a man, sitting on the grass, face turned towards the warm rays.  
"Figured you'd show up here." Buck said softly, without turning around, padding the grass next to him. Cap moved towards his friend, sitting cross-legged in the grass. "Enjoying the sun?" He smiled. The soldier nodded, eyes still closed at the fading light. "Thought I'd never see it again."

They sat for a while, in silence, as the light faded and stars appeared, one after the other, bathing the scene in silver.  
Bucky opened his eyes. "Hey, you took off that fancy outfit!" he laughed "Shame, it suits you so well!" He poked his friend's arm curiously, arching his eyebrow. Steve chuckled and nodded. "For the first time I truly feel like I have a purpose. A chance to be a part of something, make a difference." He started into the distance and whispered "Be a hero..."

"You where always a hero, Steve. I always knew you had it in you." Bucky said softly. He mustered his long time friend, still not used to the changes on him. The fabric of his shirt tight on his chest and arms instead of hanging uselessly off his limbs, his figure so much taller, upright, radiating strength and purpose. His face was the same though, eyes glinting with determination, lips in a shy smile.  
He looks almost handsome... Beautiful even. Like an actor in a movie.  
But he was still was his Steve.

"Thank you, again, for getting me out of there. Was getting sorta tough down there."  
Steve turned to look at him, a flash of insecurity on his face, before he managed to grin playfully. "Missed me?" He asked, his voice lighthearted though his eyes where filled with emotion.  
"Always." Bucky whispered, swallowing hard. He cleared his throat and shook his head, trying to clear his head.  
"Kept thinking what you'd be up to, having fun out there in the bars with the ladies, while I have to play Doctor with some filthy old men." He shrugged. "Turns out, you're dancing on stage with skimpy dressed girls and flirting with a british chick." He laughed. "Don't look so shocked, the other boys where talking in the showers, they notice the way you and Carter look at each other."

Steve looked at his feet, shaking his head softly. "She's a tough woman, I respect her, that's all." He took a deep breath and let out a sigh. "Besides, there's more important things going on, not time for dating." Buck sat upright, moving in front of his friend. "There will never be anything that's more important than love, Steve. Trust me, when you're in the dark, losing all hope of ever getting out again, you see that. Start regretting all the things you never said, because you where afraid, because something else seemed more important." Steve looked up, their eyes meeting, staring at each other in the darkness, and for a moment they where back in the little flat, two boys full of trust in each other, just them against the world.


	3. 03 - I'm Not The One

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> post Civil War; before Bucky is brought to Wakanda

For the first time in over 70 years, Steve Rogers allowed himself to breathe.  
It was over, for now. Bucky was safe. From now on, it would all be okay. They'd make it through, somehow.  
He sunk into the armchair, eyes resting on the bed next to him, where Bucky was buried under a pile of blankets, breathing steadily. The sleeping pills he had managed to organize seemed to be working. He only hoped they also kept their promise of dreamless sleep. Over the past days, Buck had drifted off from exhaustion many times, always waking with a scream, panting and sweating. Steve didnt want to even imagine what he'd been through, what pain he'd had to endure as Hydra got into his brain. But the aftermath of the battle in Berlin would still take time to settle down. For now, no contact to anyone outside. Like a war criminal on the run.

That's what you are now. Who knows for how long. Might be forever.

He sighed and closed his eyes. After his fight with Stark his first priority had been Bucky. Thankfully, not all of his friends had abandonded him or gotten captured, so he was able to organize medical care. They patched them up, even managed to remove the Winter Soldier's metal arm after he had begged them, shouting that it meant nothing but pain to him. Steve had looked at his armour, torn and dirty, wondering if he had lost the right to wear it. In a moment of rage and pain and desperation, he had torn off the shining star from the chest and tossed it all into the corner of the room. He knew it would be foolish to throw it away, as long as he wasnt sure if the battle was truly over he couldnt afford losing a fully functional armour. And yet, it pained him to even look at it. Captain America had been a symbol of justice and hope. He had believed in those colours and they had betrayed him.

Bucky stirred in the pile of sheets, his head poking out, eyes blinking in confusion. "Steve...?" His hair clung to his face, tangled and still damp from the shower he had taken earlier. "You were supposed to sleep for hours." Steve said, worry shadowing his face. His friend shrugged, defeated. "Damn serum won't let anything into my system for long, I suppose." He sat up and buried his head in his arms, shaking slightly.  
"We'll find something else then." Carefully, Steve got up from his chair and sat down on the edge of the bed, unsure whether to reach out or not.

"You've already done so much." Bucky whispered, lifting his head to look at his friend, tears glistening in his dark eyes. "You sacrificed everything for me. And you worked so hard to get there."

"And I would do it again if I had to. I'm not losing you again!"

Buck threw back his head, fist angrily clutching the sheets. "I'm a ticking bomb, Steve! I can't even trust my own mind, I don't remember half of who I am and everytime I close my eyes, all I see is pain! I'm already lost!"

The pain in his friend's voice broke Steve's heart. He crawled over the sheets and placed his hand on Bucky's fist, gently prying his fingers off the fabric to hold them in his. "I'm not afraid of you." He whispered, looking right at him, his bright blue eyes determined and stubborn as ever.  
"I tried to kill you." Buck said through gritted teeth.  
"But you didnt." Steve said simply. "You saved me. You fought against whatever it was they did to you. You will always be worth fighting for."

Defeated, the former soldier closed his eyes, slumping back into the sheets. "There never was any point arguing with you, anyway." He sighed. There was a rustling sound and he felt warmth against his skin as Steve slipped under the covers, struggling to organize the mess of blankets. "What... are you doing?" "If the pills won't work, I'll just stay with you until the morning. Like when we where kids and afraid of the dark. Sleepover!" He grinned. "A smart man once told me that feelings aren't a weakness, they make us who we are. We'll be okay." He added softly.

Bucky drew a shaky breath. The warmth against skin skin, the somehow so familiar scent of his friend, he felt overwhelmed with emotion. He eyed Steve thoughtfully, trying to understand what had happened between them that he couldnt remember. His past was still so unclear to him, memories blurred and distanced, never staying in his mind long enough for him to understand. Especially the more recent history seemed a blur. He remembered fighting, always fighting, so much fighting, and suddenly there was a familiar face, one that didnt look at him with hatred or fear, but with kindness and hope. Even as he beat it, again and again. He remembered screaming inside his head, as his metal arm flew down again and again, tearing the soft skin, the piercing blue eyes never leaving his, never losing their hope.  
And he remembered seeing them close as water surrounded both of them and grabbed for the motionless body, not even thinking, just acting instinctively. The soaking body on the shore, water spilling from his lips.  
Then he left. Why did he leave? He didnt remember.

"Hey, you okay pal?" Steve's voice tore him from his thoughts, back into the small, dark bedroom, still staring at the face he had known all his life.  
"I'm just - trying to remember..." A sudden wave of exhaustion washed over Bucky, his eyes felt heavy and his entire body hurt. If there was one thing he remembered for sure, it was that he and Steve had been through alot before and he knew he had trusted him. Maybe today was not the day to be brave and strong. Maybe sometimes it truly was okay to not be okay.

Bucky closed his eyes, curling up against Steve's chest, reaching out to feel the heat of his skin against his own, as the strong arms wrapped around him, pulling him closer. He felt the soft touch of fingers gently stroking through his hair. The wave of emotions was almost painful, his heart beat strong and fast in his chest, his mind racing as memories crashed down on him, the warmth and softness too much after years of pain and terror. Soft lips brushed his forehead, just for a second, the softest hint of a kiss. It made everything stop. There was nothing but the steady heartbeat in Steve's chest under his head and the heat of his body on his skin.

For the first time in over 70 years, James Bucky Barnes felt at peace.


	4. 04 - Trying Not To Love You

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> after the events of Black Panther; Bucky found refuge in Wakanda while Steve is out doing whatever it was he was doing before Infinity War? Saving the World?

The gleeful shouts of children playing outside woke him. Blinking against the warm sunlight filtering through the small windows of his hut, the former soldier stirred in the covers, clumsily pushing himself up. Even though he had been without the prosthetic arm for a while, he still needed some time to adjust to the lack of balance, especially in the mornings. He sat on the side of the bed, running fingers through his long hair before getting up to the small sink in the corner of his room. A dirty mirror showed him the image of a man that he didnt quite recognize. The messy hair that reached his shoulders, the untamed beard, his eyes haunted from a past he struggled to forget. He didnt look like a soldier anymore, that was a relief. The man splashed a hadnful of cold water in his face, watching the drops run over his face. Like that made any difference. He glanced at the shaving knife on the small shelf next to the sink. Every now and then he kept his beard from getting too wild and his hair from getting too long. He had considered shaving it off completely. But it scared him. The thought of looking in the mirror and seeing a reflection so close to the one he used to see 70 years ago ... see the same young face and military hair cut and not recognizing himself, it would break him even more. To be reminded of what he had lost, what Hydra had taken from him.

Outside, the children had become quiet, whispering. He could sense their movement close to the door, could feel the stares as the bravest of the group tried to sneak a look at the strange visitor. The White Wolf, they called him. Something about the man in the hut seemed to fascinate them, yet they never asked questions, only watched and waved and smiled. A busy shuffling and the following excited mumbling told him they had been satisfied with what they saw. He wondered what that was. A fallen warrior or an exciled criminal? Did he himself know?

Bucky took a deep breath and pulled the curtains shut to get dressed for the day. Somehow, he felt skinnier, weaker, but in a good way. He doubted the serum was wearing off, maybe it was just the illusion of the loose clothing that hung of his shoulders, concealing the muscular figure underneath. He took care to hide the stump of his arm to avoid scaring the children away.  
Outside, his herd of goats was waiting patiently for their breakfast. They were the only company he had most of the time. The White Wolf's days consisted mainly of caring for them or helping the nearby farmers with their crops, occasionally he'd take a walk through the area, watching the wild life, just feeling the sun on his skin.

And so he went on with his day as he had the past months, trying to get lost in work, trying to have a purpose in caring and protecting for something. No matter what he did, Bucky couldnt shake off the feeling of emptiness in his chest. Like stumbling through the dark, trying to find something to hold on to. Shuri's medication helped with the nightmares, but even in his dreams, he never felt at peace.  
He knew why. He longed for those nights he had spent in the shabby bedroom, drifting in and out of sleep as they tried to find a way to ease his mind, it was horrible but at least he hadn't been alone. Steve had been there. Holding him close, whispering words of encouragement and consolation. He had kissed him. Only on the forehead, in a moment of deepest sympathy and probably only half awake. But still, the moment had burned itself into Bucky's memory, the gentlest, softest gesture, and he held on to it whenever he was scared to lose himself.

He had hoped Steve would stay with him, they could hide in Wakanda, stay here forever with the goats and the crops and the laughing children outside. But for his friend, the battle wasn't over. He had left, haunted and broken, disappeared on a nameless mission. Captain America had died the moment his shield hit the ground next to Stark. Now, Shuri called him the Nomad. Always wandering, looking to find a purpose. It broke Bucky's heart to see him tear off the silver star on his chest and wipe the white-and-red striped off the armour. Everything Steve Rogers had believed in, had thought worth fighting for. Now he was a criminal, exiled and disgraced. A patriot without a country. Steve had promised to be back, to send a message every now and then, to make sure Buck was okay. But it had been months and no word. No sign of him anywhere.

The sun stood high up in the sky by the time the chores around the hut where done. The children had gone home to rest and Bucky retreated in the shadows of the narrow trees, wiping sweat of his brows. When had he become so gloomy? Always lost in thought, longing for things to change. The main city was gleaming in the distance, the light reflecting off the metal and glass of the modern buildings. Bucky could've lived there, Shuri had offered a place inside the palace for him, alongside a new arm, even a job somewhere in the guard, patrolling the streets of the city or the borders of the country. He had declined all of it politely, saying that all he wanted was a quiet place to rest, to live in peace some place where he couldnt hurt anyone, where he would be safe from his own mind.

Movement in the sky caught his attention, a flicker in the air and the silhouette of a jet, moving towards the palace. Could it be? He daren't get his hopes up again, only to have them crushed once again. Anyone can come here, Wakanda was open for collaboration with the rest of the world now. But what if it was-? His heart heavy with worry, the White Wolf got up and disappeared into his home, rushing to grab fresh clothes and wash his face, trim the beard, comb his hair, just in case... It wasn't so much about looking like he didnt live in a tiny shack herding goat, he just didn't want to look like he was lost or broken, didnt want his friend to worry...

Just as he finished wrapping a new scarf over his shoulder, there was a knock on the door. Bucky's heart jumped, beating against his ribs as if it wanted to escape. "Come in." His voice sounded steady, thank god. The door opened with a creak and the silhouette of a soldier appeared, outlined against the bright sunlight outside. The Nomad entered the room, closing the wooden door behind him. The name made even more sense now. His armour was dark and torn, the gold blond of his hair had turned dusty and a beard hid his elegant features. There was something wild and untamed about him.  
But he had come home.

"Steve ... ?" Bucky whispered hoarsely. He cleared his throat. "You, ehr, stole my look."  
Steve grinned and shrugged. "Felt like I needed a change."  
They stood, staring awkwardly, watching the dust and sand fly through the air.

"How have you been?" Bucky asked, gesturing to the edge of the bed as he sat down, the only place to sit in the shack aside from the sink. Hesitantly, Steve followed the invitation and sat down next to him, staring at the ground. "Lost." He admitted, "Found traces of a Hydra splinter group, tracked them all way to Norway but the trace ends there. Basically, I have nothing. So I came back, to make sure you're safe."  
He saw the look on his friends face and shook his head determently. "Don't look at me like that, I dont regret what I've done one bit, you know that!"

The men sat in silence for a while, unsure what to say, words unspoken hanging in the air between them.  
"I've remembered things", Bucky said softly, "or at least I think they're memories." He cocked his head to the side. "Did we dance? On a rooftop?" Steve laughed and nodded, "Yeah, we did! You were teaching me how to dance so I could ask a girl out for that ball you dragged me into. And yet, every girl I asked wanted me to introduce them to you." His eyes glistened with amusement as Bucky furrowed his brows. "So, I was ... I had many ... girls?" The thought confused him. He could barely remember any of them. "I don't know, I guess so? At least you loved to boast with the attention you got. Always tried to share but who would ever choose the scrawny kid next to the handsome soldier?" I would have, Bucky realized, because that kid was the bravest man I ever knew.

"Did you ever fall in love again? After Peggy Carter." He hadnt thought about how long they'd both been in the ice, but it occurred to him that Steve must've been able to see her again, years later as an old woman. How that must've pained him.  
"I tried to." Steve said softly. "But it never felt right. Not for her sake, she got married, had kids, she was over me, I know, but ... I never felt like anyone completed me that way..." There was a strange look on his face as he stared into the distance, eyes unfocused, lost in thought as a confused smile across this lips.

It was in that moment that James Bucky Barnes realized something: Steve Rogers was undeniably beautiful.  
The realization was almost painful. His chest felt like it was going to explode. And just like that, everything started to make sense.

"Steve. I think I'm in love with you." Bucky breathed, shocked at his own words, his heart skipped a beat. Their eyes met in the deafening silence.

Hesitantly, Steve reached out, his hands gently brushing the long hair from the other man's face, his head cocked to the side in slight confusion, as he traced the shape of his jaw with his thumb. He held his gaze fixed on the dark eyes, trying to hold on to the thoughts rushing through his head, the storm of emotions that washed over him, guiding his fingertips over the soft skin of his best friend until they locked in the thick dark hair, gently pulling his head towards him.

Inhaling sharply, the men moved forward, their lips meeting, tentatively locking into a shy kiss. The tension seemed to crumble away in the gentle touch, the world around them disappearing as they kissed again and again, carefully, hesitantly, neither one prepared for the longing they felt.

His hand shaking, Bucky buried his fingers in the trangled, dusty hair, pressing his forehead against Steve's, their lips still touching softly. He felt the fabric around his shoulder losen, his lover's fingers tracing the outline of his collarbone, along the scar of his arm, down over his chest, where it rested, flat against bare skin, feeling the heart beat racing.

Bucky pulled back slightly, gliding his hand against the thick fabric of the dusty armour. Chuckling, he ran his fingertips over the chest, shaking his head.  
"I have no idea how to open this." He announced.

Steve laughed softly. His hands moved over the heavy piece, losening it with practised movements, shrugging it off and letting it glide to the floor with a heavy thud. "Takes practise." He murmured. A soft tug pulled him into the bed, the two men rolled over the sheets, lips locking more passionately now, tongues tracing each other's mouths eagerly. For a moment, their worries where forgotten, their past didnt matter, lost in the moment, hands exploring the warm soft skin, following the lines of muscles and bones. The world seemed to stand still. A soft moaning escaped their lips as desire took them by surprise.

Bucky took Steve's hand, pulling away from the kiss. "Are you sure?" He asked hoarsely, aware of where this would lead. Steve blinked, panting, confusion setting on his face. "What are we doing, Buck?" he said, looking down on their tangled bodies, drawing a shaky breath.  
"Do you want to stop?" He asked softly.  
Steve shook his head. "No, I don't want to, but ... I just can't ... I've never..." He blushed.  
"It's okay," Bucky whispered, pulling his lover close to his chest, holding him tight. "We can just stay like this forever."  
He stroked his back reassuringly and softly kissed his forehead, smiling.

"I'm hopelessly in love with you, Buck." Steve said hoarsely.  
He let the thought sink in and smiled.


	5. 05 - Writing's On The Wall

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> still pre-IW in Wakanda;here's some extra fluff and the smut I promised.
> 
> Hope no one minds how extremely clumsy all of these are written, I don't have alot of free time to write so I'm just roughly sketching out some scenarios I like. (I also write mostly in the middle of the night when I am deadly tired and have no ide ahow language works)  
> If you're looking for a more detailed, brilliantly written stucky fanfic I sincerely recommend you check out "Daybreak" by Team Damon which I discovered shortly after writing this story.

For the first time since Bucky had moved into the tiny hut in Wakanda, the weather was anything but nice.  
It had rained before, of course, but never like this, water and mud flooding the fields, animals running around in panic as farmers struggled to bring them to the safety at the city, where T'Challa had arranged shelter for them. Bucky chased after them, his goats stumbling through the knee-high mess. It wasnt easy to keep them all in check, balancing with his one arm, his drenched hair hanging in his face. Maybe he should have gotten that damn hair cut.  
The wind cut sharp into his skin, freezing him to the bone. He watched his animals run before him, following the other goats, sheep and cows of the neighbouring farmers, forming a giant cloud of fur as they made for the shiny building uphill.

Somewhere, through the roaring storm, a scream pierced the air, making Bucky freeze in his steps. He heard that sound before, many times, and he had hoped, prayed he would never hear it again. Pain and absolute terror, people fearing for their lives. He turned around, desperately looking for the other farmers, but they where too far away and their hearing trained to care for animals, not humans. Without hesitation, he slapped the last of his livestock, chasing them forward to join the others, then turned around and darted back into the storm, the rain hitting his face. The screaming came from the valley, down at the lake where the goats went to drink every morning and evening. Bucky tried to shout but the rising panic in his chest made his throat tighten and no words could get through. Not now! he thought angrily, trying to fight the flashes of memories that blocked his view and slowed his thinking.  
Men screaming, trenches blowing up, the dirt spraying into his face, grass staining dark red, ...

They had warned him it would come, flashbacks to his past, recent memories as well as old ones from the war, a side effect of the combination of therapy and medical treatment he had received over the past few months.  
He gritted his teeth, struggling to focus on the slippery trail as the lake came into view, the water slapping furiously against the shore.  
The screaming sounded again, weaker this time, muffled by wind. And something else. Bucky looked around, scanning the area, blinking away rain and wind and memories. Wood! The small storage shack by the shore had collapsed under the rising water level, the family must've tried to seek shelter in it before the storm grew too strong for the thin wooden planks.

He darted forward, his blood pumping, adrenaline rushing through his body. The memories disappeared, his mind became clear, his thinking strategic. The former soldier leapt, landing skillfully on the most stable part of the caved-in roof, tossed his walking stick asidebefore he grabbed at the soaking panels of wood, splinters tearing through his skin as he dug his way through the pieces. Finally, he could see the outline of people, huddled together at the far end of the shack. He extended his bloodied arm to them, gesturing them to let him pull them out. The child was the first to step forward, Bucky recognized him from the group of kids playing outside his hut. The boy grabbed his arm, pulling himself up, landing safely in mud outside. His parents followed, pulling their son close as soon as they got to safety. Picking up his stick from the wreckage, Bucky pulled himself up, dragging the family with him, making sure not to lose sight of them as they fought their way up the hill.

Just as the city started growing into sight, the White Wolf felt his legs give in and world around him went black.

 

He woke to the sound of bleeping machines and muffled voices talking in the distance.  
"I was under the impression we had told you to avoid stress for a while, Mr. Barnes." sounded the playful voice of Shuri, as she tapped a pen against the side of his bed dramatically.  
"What happened?" Bucky asked, shaking his head, trying to find the most recent memories between the chaos of images that swirled in his mind.  
"Well, for one, you had to play the hero and rescued three people from drowning, but then again, you collapsed on the way back and they had to drag you all the way into the city, so I'd say you're even." She grinned, gestured towards a bright screen and added "On the bright side, your therapy is very successful."  
"I collapsed?" Bucky repeated in shock.  
Shuri nodded sympathetically. "Your mind is still very fragile, Bucky, I'm afraid you will experience more side effects until you are completely recovered."  
"What else could happen to me?" He swallowed hard. Being a slave to his own mind wasn't new to him, but it had never made him feel this weak before.  
"Panic attacks, loss of short-term memory, sudden anxiety, headaches, that sorta thing." She said softly. "Which is why," she smiled, "I ordered back-up!"

The princess picked up a stack of clean linen clothes and placed them on the edge of Bucky's bed, pointing towards the changing station he was all too familiar with. "He'll be waiting for you in your rooms upstairs. You will be staying in the palace until the weather's calmed down." She smiled warmly.  
"Thank you, as always, you do more for me than I can ever pay back." He took the clothes, running his fingers over the fabric.  
She grinned and nodded in agreement. "I'll find something you can do for me one day, I'm sure. In the mean time," her voice softened. "you can thank me by taking care of yourself."

 

As Bucky approached the door to his new rooms, he hesitated, his hand resting on the door handle, trying to prepare for what he'd find inside.

The last time he had seen Steve, several weeks ago, had been shortly after he confessed his feelings to him in an unexpected wave of emotion. They had fallen asleep, arm in arm, kissing softly. The following day had been a blur, an urgent call had torn Steve from his arms, as the trail he had lost in Norway suddenly resurfaced, and he had gone as suddenly as he had arrived. They hadnt talked since.  
Bucky understood, he knew Steve needed his space, not just to finish the mission he had started over 70 years ago, but to figure out what the hell had happened between them. Buck himself had thought about it many days and nights, wondering how a friendship that had been nothing but innocent jests and brotherly love for so long could possibly have turned into whatever this was now.  
So he got it, he knew Steve had to leave, needed distance, needed time, but the way he had left had unexpectedly hurt him alot.

Taking a deep breath, he forced his arm to move and pushed the door open. The room was nice. It was bigger than his hut, decorated in warm shades of brown, orange and yellow, with a giant bed and a couch and TV. Steve looked up at him from the couch, nervously wringing a pillow in his hands.  
He jumped up as soon as he saw him.  
"I'm so glad you're alright!" He made a move as though to apporach him, then hesitated and stayed put, watching him nervously.  
"I feel fine, you didn't have to come." Bucky said quietly, not moving.  
"I should've never left." Steve answered, letting go of the poor pillow. "You needed me and I let you down. Again. I'm so sorry, Buck, I really am."  
"Its okay." Bucky whispered. "I had goats to take care of anyway." He stepped forward, walking past Steve and inspected the bedroom, picking elegantly wrapped chocolate off the pillows. "And I know, you had things to take care of, I don't expect you to hang around all the time and babysit me. It's just-" He turned around and stared back at him. "- you told me that you where in love with me, you kissed me and touched me and then you just left."

Steve cleared his throat, tears glistening in his eyes. "I, uhm, I chased that splinter group across the globe, I kept running and fighting and bleeding and I burned every hide-out and turned in every member I could find." He ran his hands through his hair. It had gotten longer, dirtier. A strong contrast to the well groomed, elegant man he had been as Captain America. "I thought that it would give me purpose. That, if I just kept running and hunting, I would be myself again. That I wouldnt feel so lost."  
Bucky glared at him, his eyes narrowed in confusion, waiting for the punchline.  
"But no matter where I was or what I did..." He took a deep breath. "All I could think about was you." He was shaking slightly, his hands clenching at his side, then dropped to his knees like a knight and looked up at him, pleading. "Please, forgive me. You're all I have and all I need."

"From now on," Bucky said, moving towards Steve, gently placing his hand under his chin, "no more hiding, no more running, just complete honesty."  
He pulled him up by his shirt and stared into his glistening eyes.  
"Because I've thought about this" he gestured between the two of them "for a long time and I don't want to pretend anymore. I need you," he traced the line from Steve's chest up his neck, following the line of his jaw until his fingers rested on the back of his head,"and I want you." He breathed, pulling the other man closer for a kiss that was more eager, more passionate, than the ones they had shared before.  
"I meant what I said, Buck." Steve whispered against his lips. "I really did fall in love with you."

Steve pulled Bucky closer, running his hands over his back, grabbing at the fabric of his shirt, pulling it over Bucky's head, eager, willing himself not to think, only to act on the surge of emotion. Something about Bucky made him lose control. Like the first night they had been together, he had longed to be closer to him, as close as he could possibly be. It terrified him but drew him in, wanting more, wanting to feel him, taste him, never let him go again. They would have to talk about it someday, he knew, but not today. Now was not the time for overthinking.

He let his hands glide over the rough skin until they found the tight fabric of his jeans, resting on a perfectly shaped bottom. He chuckled.  
"What's so funny?" Bucky asked, grinning at his lover, panting slightly as he pulled playfully on his tight shirt.  
"Nothing, I just, I never thought I'd find you this ... sexy." He laughed, tearing his shirt off, pressing their bodies together, eager to feel the heat of skin on skin, pressing his forehead against Bucky's. "But I just want you..." he breathed.

They kissed, passionately, their bodies tangling as they crashed down on the couch.  
Bucky skillfully climbed on top, unbuttoning Steve's jeans with his one hand, running his fingers down his stomache, lingering at the edge of the zipper, hesitating. "Okay?" he asked softly. Steve nodded and whispered "please", grabbing the dark strands of hair, kissing him longingly.  
His entire body began to shiver as Bucky's hand slid down into his pants, touching him gently, watching carefully for his partner's reactions.  
He exhaled in surprise, his breath shaky and nervous, but he nodded again, kissing Buck's neck, his hands grabbing on stronger, nails digging into the skin on his back as the movement of Bucky's hand got more confident, filling him with a sensation he had never felt before.

Bucky pulled back suddenly and backed away with a teasing grin.  
"Let's get more comfortable though." He laughed, kicking his shorts off and jumping backwards on the bed. He sincerely hoped no neighbouring rooms where currently occupied.  
Steve followed, losing his clothes in the process and dropping on top of him, desperate to continue. His hands wandered down Bucky's stomach, copying the movements he had experienced earlier, trying to move his hands the way Bucky had. The other man let out a soft moan, followed my a passionate kiss that made his entire body tingle with desire. They pressed against each other, grinding their hips instinctively, sweat running down their skin.  
Bucky traced Steve's lips with his thumb, gently biting his lower lip, causing him to sigh softly. "We don't have to do this if you're not ready. There's no need to rush." Steve shook his head "It's okay, Buck, I trust you." He pressed their foreheads together again, sighin. "please...?" He whispered again, grinding harder, desperate to feel the heat take over his body.

Bucky chuckled and slid his hand down between them, grabbing both of them in his hand, moving it skillfully as his tongue traced Steve's neck, sucking on the soft skin. Steve dug his fingers into Buck's back, moaning, tossing his head back in bliss.  
"fuck..." Bucky whispered against his neck, his hand moving quicker, holding on stronger, body tensing with pleasure. He looked at his lover, watching the sweat run down his face, dripping off his jaw. Their eyes met, burning with passion and desire, drinking in each other's arousal.  
Steve gasped in surprise, "I think I'll-" Bucky silenced him with a deep kiss, whispering "shh it's okay" against his lips, letting his tongue taste the sweat and heat and Steve.  
He felt the sticky warmth spread over his hand, running down between them, dripping on the sheets.

Exhaling softly, Steve collapsed, resting his head against Bucky's shoulder, breathing hard. Bucky wiped his hands on the sheets, before running it down his partner's back, kissing his brow softly. Warmth spread through him, different from the heat of desire, not burning and needy, but calm and content. He wondered if this was what love felt like. He drew his lover closer, overwhelmed with the need to have him close, to protect him.  
"Was that... your first time?" He asked carefully. Steve nodded shyly, looking up into his eyes. "It never felt right before. But somehow... this did." His eyes widened as he looked down their tangled bodies at the mess they had made. "I'm sorry." He said hoarsely. "You didn't even get to..."  
Bucky laughed warmly. "Not the most important thing, Steve." He kissed his forehead again. "That was... really great." He laced his fingers with Steves, a move he had seen on TV a few times and never quite understood. He decided he liked it.  
"It was... breathtaking." Steve whispered.  
"So I noticed." Bucky grinned and nustled his head in the dusty blond hair.

He was at home.


	6. 06 - A Thousand Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> picking up where chapter 05 left off, I originally wanted this to be the last chapter and catch up with IW but then these two idiots got a life on their own and I couldnt stop writing and I'm nowhere near IW lol
> 
> also, smut warning

Bucky tried hard to resist his urge to roll his eyes and sigh. On the other side of the shiny dinner table, Shuri grinned knowingly and kept glancing at him and Steve, twitching her eyebrows at him. Even after seven decades, women where still a mystery to him. It was like they had a seventh sense for lost virginities. His own first time had caused a similiar, though even more awkard, situation with his mother and sister, all those years ago. He barely remembered the details, couldnt recall their exact words, but the exchanged looks and playful grins flashed before his eyes, making him blush. It was the sparkle in his eyes, they had said. Buck looked at Steve now and tried to see a difference to the way he had looked the day before. He couldnt see it. Women!

"So..." Shuri said, lifting her glass, playfully turning it around in her thin hand, eyeing the two men. "I hope you slept comfortable in your temporary accommodations?" Before Bucky could save the situation, Steve dropped his fork, his face flushing so red even the beard couldnt conceal it.  
"It was a - a very nice room, uhm, great view!" He stuttered unconvincingly.  
Bucky resisted the urge to bang his head against the table. He wished he could say they where all grown-ups here, but sometimes he wasn't so sure.

The princess laughed. "I am not a child, you know, and I do not judge. I was simply wondering whether you would want to move permanently into the palace, we have more than enough space." She gave Steve a sympathetic look, as the super soldier struggled to regain his posture. "Wakanda is a place of peace. My brother has made it very clear that we all live as equals."  
"I am grateful for the offer but I think I would like to return to my hut and my goats. That is my place here now. I will start patching the place up by tomorrow." He cast a nervous glance at Steve. They hadnt figured out what exactly was going on between them, much less how their futures would look. He knew the Nomad had work to do, shadows to chase and battles to fight. He just hoped this time he could be sure of his return.  
Steve met his gaze for a second, the same question lingering in his eyes, before turning to Shuri.  
"I will stay with Buck for a few days, until I can be sure the side effects of the treatment are causing him no trouble. I'll help rebuild the hut and anything else that was damaged in the storm, it's the least I can do."

Shuri nodded slowly, her expression warm and gentle. "Our doors will always be open to you." She got up with a small sigh of annoyance. "Unfortunately, I have constructions to oversee and 'princess duties' to fulfill." She made sarcastic air quotes. "You make sure he rests and takes his meds." Steve nodded, watching her leave the room, his fingers nervously clutching the silverware.  
"Careful, you don't wanna break that." Bucky said, nodding to the poor fork that threatened to get crushed in his grip. He dropped it with a clang.  
"How did she know?" Steve asked, his eyes wide in surprise.  
"Beats me. Must be some kinda feminine instinct." He shrugged. "Or maybe it was the laundry." He placed his hand on Steve's shoulder, gently running his thumb over the exposed skin. "It's nothin' to be embarassed of, you know?" He said softly.

Buck got up, offering his hand to Steve, who laughed, took it, and let him pull him up into a tentative kiss. His heart beating fast, Bucky curved his fingers around Steve's neck, playing with the silky hair, his eyes searching the other man's face, willing to memorize every detail of it. "I dont want you to leave me again." He whispered.  
"I will be back." Steve locked his fingers behind Bucky's back, pulling him closer. "You know I have to do this, Buck." He felt him collapse slighty, head leaning against his chest, weight resting against him. "Whatever you're looking for out there," Bucky said, "I hope you find it."

"We have a few more days."

 

They spent the day inside the palace, listening to the elders talk of Wakanda's history, admiring Shuri's newest inventions, listening to T'Challa's ideas and giving advice on his request. Steve made sure they took breaks, in which they sat down in a quiet spot, Bucky's head on his shoulder, and he asked him questions about his past, filling holes in his memories, making sure they came back in slow, comprehensive waves rather than aggressive flashes. His presence alone made it easier for Buck, the sound of a familiar voice that guided him through a life that felt world away. Slowly, it was all starting to make sense. Though no matter how much he recalled, how many details Steve could tell him, the James Barnes from the forties felt like a stranger to him. But at least Steve didnt. He was always there, steady and reliable. Changed, yes, broken and hurt, just like he was, but still somehow the same. Bucky hoped he could be, too, one day.

As the sun set over the mountains and bathed the land in orange and gold, Bucky took Steve to the gardens, overlooking the fields and villages below. Despite his short stay, he felt more at home than he had in any other city since he first left New York for the war. He pointed at the villages, the lakes, the farms, and had a story to tell for each of them.

"We could just stay here, forever." He said with a hint of sadness. "Just live a normal, humble life."  
Steve cocked his head slightly. "Is that really what you want? Settling down ... with me?"  
"You're all I need." Bucky said simply. "And whatever this is, it's ... good. Guess it's too good to be true."  
"Buck..." Steve reached out and took his hand, holding it tightly between both of his. "There is nothing I want more than that."  
Then stay, Bucky thought, but he knew better than to argue. If this was what Steve needed, then he had no right to keep him from doing it.

Instead, he laughed and shook his head. "This is all so ... cheesy." He furrowed his brows. "Probably the kinda date I would've planned to impress a girl. In another life..."  
Steve nodded in agreement. "D'you remember how you tried to help me ask a girl out to the dance when we were about fourteen? You wore a ridiculous hat and stuffed oranges down your shirt. Then you had me memorize a whole lotta dialogue and practise it on you. I couldn't stop laughing, you looked like such a dork." He chuckled, his eyes staring into the distance.  
"What happened with you and that girl?" Bucky asked.  
"She said 'thank you' and then made out with you in an alley." He answered matter-of-fact-ly.

Bucky bit his lip. "I really didn't make it easy for you, did I? I'm sorry."  
Steve shook his head. "Don't be. If they hadn't gone out with you, they'd have chosen someone else. At least this way they had someone who treated them right. Besides," He grinned, blushing slightly, "I'm not exactly sorry you have gathered some experience over the years, that kinda came in handy." He flushed darker. "Pun not intended."

"Hmm there's more where that came from!" Bucky winked, chuckling. Then his gaze softened and his tone grew more serious. "This is all new for me as well, you know." He ran his fingers over Steve's knuckles. Every touch, every look they exchanged, every quiet moment that they stole away from the crowded palace, made his skin tingle and his heart beat faster. It scared him how easy it was to lose control around him, just act without thinking. There wasn't much he could remember about the girls he'd dated to begin with, but he couldnt recall any of them making him feel this way. Though it might have just gotten lost in time.

"Then I guess we'll figure it out together." Steve murmured, his eyes closed, enjoying the gentle touch. "You and me..." Bucky laced his fingers with Steve's, enjoying how perfectly they fit into each other. "Until the end of the line..." he whispered.

The sun had barely risen over the trees of the wakandan rainforest, when the reconstruction of the damaged farmland started. Steve carried a pile of wood over one shoulder, a sack with ropes and nails slung over the other, a collection of tools strapped to his chest and hips. He looked like a weird parody of a superhero in a commercial for hardware stores. Bucky decided he'd look just as badass if he had both of his arms. Unfortunately for him, the the little stump that was left of his arm was little help carrying heavy materials, so he had offered to do the brainwork instead, measuring, organizing and planning. It felt weird, standing around shouting orders while the others cursed and sweat, when he knew he had much more strength and stamina than any of them. On the other hand, that advantage was one of the things he so desperately wanted to forget.

He busied himself sketching out the pens for the farm animals, suggesting improvements to the previous set-ups here and there. It made him remember the school days of his past life, planning dances and sport events. So there had been more to him than girls and Steve. He wondered if he had played any kind of sports and made a mental note to ask about that later.

A gasp made him turn around. It looked like Steve had started chopping up the wood and decided an axe would only slow him down. Instead, he pressed the blocks against his chest and broke them apart with his hands, attracting a small crowd. Bucky couldn't blame them. He stared for a moment, enjoying the view, grateful that he had chosen to wear lose tunic pants that hid his growing arousal. Reluctantly, he forced himself to focus on the task at hand.

"We got work to do, everyone, so if you could just keep moving and leave the man be, that'd be great!" He called, causing a few mumbled complaints and sighs. Steve grinned and winked at him. Bucky rolled his eyes.

 

The rest of the day passed without much interruption and by the end of it, a dozen houses where ready to be settled into and the lifestock grazed lazily on the fields around them.

Bucky had decided his hut wasnt damaged too badly, and insisted to spend the night there again. "No offense, but I'll miss the palace." Steve announced, as they started cleaning the place up, placing fallen objects back on their shelves and gathering up dirt and branches that the rain and storm had swept inside. He was glad the hut didnt have much interior to begin with. "We can get a tv in here too, if you miss it that much." Bucky said, pulling clean sheets over the bed.

Steve sighed dramatically. "I guess that would be a start. But I got something better that will make this feel like home." He opened one of the many pouches on his tool belt and took out a small package. "Took a while to find, Nat was a great help." Bucky cocked his head to the side and took it, sitting down on the edge of the bed, carefully peeling back the brown packaging. Steve sat down next to him. The paper fell away, revealing a small scrapbook bound in black leather. The edges where bend and slightly torn and it smelled old. Hands shaking, Bucky opened it, gently turning through the pages. It was filled with pictures, faded black-and-white and sepia colours, showing a boy from early childhood to his teens, playing in a sandbox, chasing a cat down the street, fighting over cake with a younger looking girl, grinning awkwardly in a family picture, playing with toy soldiers with a sickly looking boy,...

He kept skipping through, afraid to linger for too long on one image, scared of what he might remember or even worse, what he might not.

"The first pictures where still from your dad, the rest we dug up from other families." Steve whispered, his hand resting reassuringly on Buck's shoulder. "Including mine." he added, as they reached the last page, which showed two young men in elegant suits, standing arm in arm on a High School yard. Young Steve looked like a kid playing dress-up, his jacket hanging loosely over the thin shoulders, pants kept up by a tight belt. He looked sickly with his matted hair and sunken in cheeks, but his eyes glowed with pride. Young James Barnes tried desperately to look cooler than he was, posing for the camera in an almost superhero-like stance, his arm wrapped protectively around his friend.

Bucky's face felt hot and wet and he realized he was crying. He ran his fingertips over the picture, remembering the feeling of painfully thin arms under is hand and the overwhelming need to move heaven and hell to make sure little sick Stevie would still have the best life possible. He remembered how he'd worked double shifts paying for meds and hospital bills, the nights he had curled up next to him, hardly getting any sleep while he checked his friend's breathing every few minutes. And some nights the illness got worse and young Bucky paced the hospital hallways impatiently, praying and cursing. But all the fear and pain and restless nights where worth it, because he knew Steve was and would always be the center of his universe.

"I loved you so much." Bucky realized, his hand resting on the page. "Maybe not the way I do know, but ..." He turned his head, seeing tears glistening in Steve's eyes as well. "You where always everything to me. Thank you." He closed the book and carefully placed it on the bedside table.

Steve gently pulled him on his lap, his now strong arms wrapped around Bucky, softly kissed his hairline and whispered "you're everything to me, Buck." They curled up on the sheets, a mirrored image to the boys of another lifetime, Steve now being the one protectively holding Bucky against his chest, his hand trailing up and down his back. The other hand ran through the soft brown hair, fingers tangling in the strands. "Beginning to really like this hair cut..." He murmured.

"Thought about cutting it." Bucky mumbled against his chest. "But it didn't feel right." He traced the outline of Steve's muscles on his shirt, fingertips running over the thin fabric. "I realized I am not that man in the photograph anymore. And I never will be." With a sigh, he pushed himself up to look into Steve's eyes. "I'm not ..." he hesitated, struggling to find the right words. "- not the Buck that protected you from bullies on the playground and marched into World War II beside you." Strands of his dark hair fell into his face as he spoke, and a shiver ran down his spine as Steve reached up to tug them behind his ear, listening intently. "This is the man that was a monster. Who's ... broken and lost and fucking scared." His voice broke slightly and he drew a ragged breath. "But it's also the Bucky who fell desperately in love with you..." he whispered, "and I never want that to change." He collapsed against Steve's shoulder, burying his face against the heat of his exposed neck.

"I don't want that to change either." Steve said, his thumb caressing Bucky's cheek. "Cuz that broken, lost, scared man is the one I fell for."  
He took a deep breath, feeling his heart beat faster, affection rushing through him like electric energy. The heat of Bucky's body against his, the soft hair tickling his jaw, the vulnerability of their conversation, it was overwhelming. For years he had lived in isolation, kept his emotions locked up as best as he could. He'd tried to open up for Peggy, for those few lucid moments she had he had tried hard to be the Steve she remembered. With Nat and Sam he had at least tried. But somehow something inside him had built a wall so high he couldn't even reach it himself. Until now.

Steve exhaled slowly, feeling tears sting in his eyes. He swallowed hard. "Buck..." he whispered. The name seemed to burn in his throat.  
"hmm?" Bucky murmured against his neck.  
"I want to... be with you." He confessed, his voice breaking with emotion. "I know it's all happening really fast and you've been through so much, I just-"  
"We've waited long enough, I think." Bucky mumbled, raising his head, smiling warmly. "Be my stupid boyfriend, you punk."

He didn't wait for an answer, just pushed himself up, skillfully wrapping his legs around Steve's torso and kissed him passionately.  
Their built-up emotions exploded. They rolled around, a tangle of limbs, lips locking fiercly. Steve was all hands and mouth, eagerly tearing off clothes, kissing and touching every inch of skin he could find. He ran his tongue down Bucky's neck, kissed his chest, untied the loose pants and followed the line of well defined muscles down his stomach.

Bucky gasped in surprise as he felt tentative lips exploring between his legs. His hand reached for the thick blond hair, running his fingers through the strands in a mix of passion and gentle encouragement. Steve ran his hand up and down his length, gripping firmly. The soft moans escaping his lover's mouth encouraged him enough to dare and take him all in his mouth. He dropped all fears and worries and followed the wave of passion, letting his tongue explore, paying attention to Bucky's body reacting. The fingers in his hair curled up, gripping firmly, softly guiding him until they both fell into a rhythm.

Instinctively, Steve's free hand curled around Bucky's lower back, nails digging into the skin. He felt the grab on his hair tensing, Bucky's movements getting rougher as his breathing sped up. It went through Steve like an electric shock, he wanted him to feel all the beautiful things Bucky had made him feel the first time they had ended up like this. He gripped him tightly, his mouth working eagerly, switching back and forth between working his tip with his lips and tongue and taking in the whole length.

"fuck, Steve..." Bucky moaned, a shiver running through him, his back arching with pleasure.  
Steve reacted just in time, moving up to kiss Bucky deeply, tongues locking, as he spilled in his hand with a deep sigh.

They collapsed onto each other, breathing hard. "Where did that come from?" Bucky laughed softly, gently running his fingers through Steve's hair.  
"To be honest, I've been thinking about that all day, watching you be all bossy and badass." He answered, blushing.  
Bucky kissed Steve's forehead, now his second favourite place to kiss.  
"... do you want me to...?" Steve shook his head. "It's fine. I think we're even now." He laughed, pulling Bucky back against his chest. "I am perfectly happy just having you here." He decided he never wanted to leave this bed and sacrificed his shirt to wipe away their mess, before pulling the thin blanket over their bodies.

Bucky yawned and nustled against his chest, eyes falling shut, breathing slowing down. "hmm...loveyousteeviie" He murmured.  
"I love you too, Buck." Steve whispered. He couldnt recall ever feeling this happy and peaceful.


	7. 07 - Angel Without Wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We're catching up on Infinity War, so beware the feels.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go again! Originally, this was supposed to be a one-shot collection, but these babies developed their own life and took over, there was no stopping them. I wanted to do a new fic and just wrap this up quickly, but they wouldnt let me. This story isnt told yet. Oops.
> 
> Also, I hope some of you noticed that I chose the names of songs that seemed fitting for the chapters as titles. Kinda stole that idea from Degrassi but it just felt right.
> 
> Anyway, Infnity War spoilers ahead! The chapter will catch up with the movie and also include some Avengers 4 Headcanons/Fan theories.  
> I've only watched IW once when it first came out (they didnt have many screenings in English around here) so I might remember some things incorrectly, please forgive me.

"Don't leave. Please." Bucky said again, tugging at the dirty uniform.  
Steve smiled, running his hands through Bucky's long hair. "That's what I said to you before you went back into cryo." He said, arching his brows.  
Buck sighed. "And you let me make my own choice, I know. But that was before..." He shoved him slightly, pouting.  
"I'll be back." Steve promised. "There are still people out there that need help and I'm taking much less of a risk helping them than anybody else on this planet. I can't just sit and watch."  
"yeah, 'feel like I've heard that speech before. 'There are men down there laying down their lifes and I got no right to do any less'..."  
"You remember!" Steve laughed, his lighting up.  
"I hated it back then and I hate it now." Bucky said grumpily. He sighed. "But I know you have to. You've always been a stupid hero with stupid morals and stupidly good hair."

He pushed Steve away softly, taking a step back. "You better fucking text me this time, though." He added.  
Steve grinned and nodded. "Promise." He turned around and climbed into the jet, throwing one last look over his shoulder before disappearing behind glass and metal.

T'Challa took his place next to Bucky, hand resting assuringly on his shoulder.  
"Don't worry, Shuri put a tracker in his armour when she patched it up." He laughed at Bucky's arched brow. "With his consent! We will have to know where he is in case of trouble and my sister's technology has proven to be reliable and secure."  
"So you know where he's going now? His mission?"  
The king shook his head. "He did not say and we didn't ask. But I do know they have safehouse in Scotland."  
Bucky nodded thoughtfully. "So he's still with Natasha and Sam. At least he won't be alone."  
"You are not worried he will be unfaithful, are you?" T'Challa asked. It was a very smooth way to ask his actual question without getting too awkward.  
"So Shuri told you." Buck said, equally amused and terrified by the girl's skillful observations. She kept surprising him.  
"I am not worried. Steve isn't like that." Something about the subject, talking so openly about his feelings for his best friend made him uncomfortable. Not because he was a man, Bucky had seen too much of the world to be bothered by such silly things as labels, it was more about ... feelings. It was strange to him, after all the years he spent as the Winter Soldier, to feel again, and even more to talk about them openly. Steve's presence had made it easier, made him feel more like the man he used to be. But without him, the vulnerability scared him. Still, no time like the present to face that fear.

"I would think-" Bucky said carefully, "that we are now official. As a ... couple...? That means something..." He sighed. "Or at least it did when I last dated."  
T'Challa grinned. "I am sure it still does to most people. Fortunately, Steve Rogers seems like the kind of man to do so. My father would always say the men of today can learn a thing or two from the gentlemen of the forties."  
"People tend to romantize the past." Buck said kindly, not wanting to mention the many boys he had visited in an alley after seeing their girlfriends come to school bruised and haunted, or the men he had taken into the forest for a good talk after overhearing their conversations about the girls of nearby towns.

"In any case," T'Challa said confidently, "I do not doubt Steve Rogers is, as my sister put it, 'husband material'. Not that I know what how exactly she defines that." He cocked his head to the side.  
Bucky laughed. "She called him that?"

The king nodded and furrowed his brows. "She also told me to give you a laptop so you could 'educate yourself on stuff that they didn't talk about in the thirties'?"  
Bucky snorted. "I'm good, thank you. Tell her I've done my research." He shook his head, laughing as the realization spread on T'Challa's face.  
"I did not need to know that." He said simply, patting Bucky's shoulder before turning around. "But good for you." He added as he walked back into the palace, leaving Bucky to stare into the distance, past the glistening buildings of the city, where somewhere his stupid boyfriend would be saving the stupid world.

 

Steve dropped into the battered couch, groaning, his hand clasped around his shoulder.  
"You sound like an old man, Rogers." Natasha commented, prying his fingers away from the wound. She knew not to lose time getting the bullet out before the accelared healing made the flesh grow around it. Over the past months, they had peeled more bullets from his body than she would care to count. Nat herself had been injured a fair amount as well, of course, but mostly it was Steve who threw himself in front of her and Sam like a human shield, knowing his body could take more hits than theirs could. It had hurt her pride a bit at first, but she knew they couldn't afford any major injuries that would knock them out for a longer time.

"I am an old man!" Steve said through gritted teeth, watching his friend expertly fish the small piece of silver from his torn skin. He did feel old sometimes. Tired. But as long as these wounds healed within a few days, he knew he couldn't back down.

"You're a drama queen." Nat said kindly, patching up the injured shoulder. "There you go. Another one for the collection." She glanced at the soft scars on his chest and stomach. There used to be hardly any trace of his injuries, back when they'd first fought side by side. Recently, the skin had not regenerated as smoothly. Maybe he was getting old. The thought pained her more than she'd expected.

As she inspected his semi-naked body, she noticed another thing that was different. At first it had looked like a regular bruise, god knows they had alot of thise, but the placement and shape seemed suspicious.  
"Steve Rogers, is that a hickey?" Natasha laughed out loud, grabbing at his neck to get a closer look.  
Steve pulled away, blushing a deep red under his beard. "What makes you think-?"  
She laughed. "I knew it! You have that... glow in your eyes!" She punched his good shoulder playfully. "Who is the lucky girl that finally took the Saint Rogers' virginity?"

"It's ... complicated ... I really don't think we need to have this conversation." He tried to flee but his friend tackled him down, her hand firmly pressed against his chest.  
"Don't you dare! I spent ages trying to hook you up with someone, I deserve to know!" She narrowed her eyes, trying to read Steve's body language, Super Soldier against Super Spy.  
It had to be someone in Wakanda, that was obvious.  
"Nat, I really don't -"  
Someone in the palace? Warrior or royal?  
"If you could just get your foot out of my spine-"  
Was it someone they knew? That they'd met when they first brought Bucky there?  
"How are you even doing this, your legs are everywhere."  
Breaking through that wall would take more than a pretty face, she knew, she'd tried. It would take trust. A trust that Steve had in no one ... except-

"Oh my gosh!" Natasha gasped, jumping backwards, releasing her slightly terrified friend. "You slept with Bucky!"  
She grinned brightly, clapping her hands. "I knew it, you know, I knew there was this tension between you, I mean, you refused to leave his side the entire time we took him in and..." She shook her head. "That is so cheesy."

Steve buried his head in his hands. "When I first visited him in Wakanda after his Cryo.. We sort of ... I don't know. Things between us changed I guess."  
He looked up, genuinely confused. "I just couldn't help it. I ... fell in love... with him."  
Nat threw herself on the couch next to him, pulling her legs up, looking like a girl on a sleepover. "So are you official"  
"I don't know... I guess? Not like I have any experience, I don't know how you're supposed to..." He buried his face back into his hands.  
"I'm happy for you." Natasha said softly, placing her hand on Steve's back. "If anyone deserves peace and happiness, it's the two of you."

She stroked his back reassuringly. "Why did you leave?" She asked softly.  
"Duty." Steve muffled against his palms. "I can't just abandon our mission."  
Nat furrowed her brows. "That's what you tell yourself. What's the true reason?" She said. The super spy wins again.  
Again, Steve looked up, his eyes dark with worry. "Happiness doesn't happen to people like us. Especially not to me." He voice was quivering. Damn Natasha for being able to coax whatever information she needed out of even the most determined soldiers.

"Everytime I got Bucky back, something happened to take him away from me again. Every time that I felt like I could be happy, war and hatred followed me and tore him away. I don't know if I can bear to lose him again, Nat. It would kill me." His voice broke into a whisper, tears glistening in his eyes.

"You can't run away all your life, Steve. There is your chance to live the normal life we are all dreaming of. Don't let war and hatred win by being afraid to reach for it." Her eyes darkened. She imagined, just for a moment, getting to lay down her weapons, move into a small house, a lover by her side, with nothing to worry about outside of their own small bubble of domestic life.  
Could she do it? Could she have faith in the illusion of happiness? Or would she shy away, one hand on the trigger, watching the shadows?

Without another word, she pulled her friend into her embrace, resting her chin on his head, palms flat against his back.

 

Something wasn't right with the goats. They had been acting odd all week, only moving in close bundles of fur, jumping at every odd noise and unexpected movement. It had been worrying Bucky for a while. He knew the creatures where much more intelligent than him and if there was something that made them feel uneasy, he felt like he had reason to be worried. He hadn't told Steve. They had called and texted and skyped, but their conversations had been short and light-hearted, mostly memories and joking and discussions about TV shows that Shuri had forced him to watch so he would get her references. It had seemed so innocent and peaceful, an escape for his boyfriend who was fighting and running all day, Bucky hadn't wanted to darken the mood.

He supposed it had been too good to be true. The peace, the feeling of safety, his slowly blossoming relationship with Steve... It wasn't the sort of thing that happened to them. Somehow, their past would always catch up to them. And he dreaded the day that it did was coming close.

As Bucky looked up to the city now, hearing the yells and the clanging of metal, the dark silhouettes of multiple jets appearing on the sky, his assumptions seemed confirmed. He had looked forward to seeing Steve again, to disappear into his hugs and drown in his eyes.  
This reunion wouldn't be like that.

He could feel it in his bones, too familiar with the ice cold calm as terror broke out around him, guards escorting the farmers to safety, children crying.  
Against everything he had told himself for the past year, despite all of his efforts to never go back to who he used to be, Seargant James Buchanan Barnes put his feelings into a box and became a Soldier.  
He knew what was in that box before they had even reached his hut.

"Where's the fight?"

 

"...Steve?"

"Bucky..."

 

He had been wrong. Losing him again didn't kill him. He wished it did. It felt like dying. Everything inside him shattered.

For a moment, the pain was unbearable, tearing through his heart worse than any knife or bullet ever could.  
Then, there was emptiness. He dropped to his knees, hands clawing at the pile of dust that was all that was left of him.  
Nothing.  
There was nothing in him anymore.  
Just a black hole that devoured everything.

No good deed goes unpunished.

 

They moved on. Like they always did. Because if they didn't, who else would? But they left themselves behind.

The group of broken people that had once been the protectors of the earth kept moving. Kept fighting. There was nothing else they could do. They didn't know what would happen if they stopped.

An entire universe in pain. Half the people might have died, but all of them had gone.  
After the roar of battle and the screams of fear and grief, the silent loss that followed was deafening.

Captain America was dead. That man, that idea, had died the moment he dropped his shield and turned his back on the country he had loved.  
Steve Rogers was gone. The name had vanished with the man who last spoke it.  
The Nomad was all that was left. Lost and empty, in constant movement, hunting and running and fighting.

He never said word. Not a single one. There was nothing left to say.  
The others understood. Most of them where silent as well, communicating over single words and gestures. Falling into a rhythm, like a machine.

There was a new Captain now. A woman that none of them had heard of before.  
Fury had called her in, during his last moments before he, too, disappeared into a cloud of dust.  
She was their last hope.

The Captain took over their group, pulling them out of the ash and dust. No one questioned it. They where grateful for it, following her orders quietly and discreetly.  
She was a natural leader, determined and tough, but with kindness in her eyes.

Let someone else be the hero. Let her save the world. Let her hope. Let us go.

The Nomad watched her, the woman who now bore a title he once carried with pride. Captain. He didn't envy her.  
She also carried the burden that came with it.  
And she had suffered loss as well, he could see it, behind the strict voice and intelligent eyes.  
There was pain. Emptiness.  
If anything, the Nomad admired her for refusing to give up.  
Taking over their broken pieces and trying her best to make an army out of it.

The world would always need a Captain.

 

He would've thought death was cold and dark. That it would hurt. Burn?  
He had died before. In fact, he had only just started being alive again.  
But this death was ... different. Light. Warm. Disconnected. And ... crowded.  
All around him where people, wandering between the ancient-greece-looking pillars and structures, looking confused and lost.  
So many faces. He looked around, equally sadened and relieved that he didn't recognize any of them.  
Whatever had happened, where ever they where, it didn't seem like a good thing.

Instinctively, he backed away from the crowd, trying to find a shadow to hide in. He found himself in some sort of broken-down temple, leaning with his back against a pillar. His head felt oddly light. Like he couldn't think. Like he didn't want to. It wasn't new to him, fighting against his own head.  
He tried to remember. Fought through the barrier in his head, pushing through the misty bliss that tried to take him over. It hurt like hell. Good.

A face flashed before his eyes. A man, looking dirty and battered, his face distorted in pain, but his eyes where kind. The image floated in his mind. The man was saying something. He kept pushing, groaning in agony. A slurred voice sounded in his head. A part of him wanted the pain to end, to return to the warmth and carelessness. But something told him he had to keep going.

"You are-" The man said. I am? He tried again, envisioned a wall in his head that he kept kicking until the rocks crumbled away.  
"You are James Buchanan Barnes-"

Bucky gasped, hands grabbing at his head as he felt the wall collapse, an unbearable pain tearing through him, making every inch of his body tense in agony.  
Steve.  
Wakanda, the arm, the battle, the monsters, Thanos, the stones,...  
Steve.  
The last thing he remembered.

"You've fought it off." Someone said, an edge of surprise in the defeated sadness of their voice. "Most people just give in to the peacefulness."  
Bucky looked up, wiping hair from his face. A woman stood before him, her arms crossed, an expression of grief and pity on her face. She sat down in front of him, eyeing him curiously. "Do you remember your name?" She asked.

"Bucky." He breathed. "What's happening?"  
The woman smiled sadly. He realized her skin was green. it made him think earth wasnt the only planet that had been attacked.  
"My name's Gamora, thanks for asking." She sighed. "You're inside the soul stone. Stored away. With half of the universe."  
She looked at him, curious, like she wondered how much of that he understood.

"So Thanos really won." He said, the pain pulsing in his chest. "And we're all ... dead."  
Gamora shrugged. "I guess he did. But I don't think this is death. This is worse than that. It's an eternal limbo, somewhere between life and death, somewhere outside of the universe."  
"Is that why people forget their names?" Bucky asked.  
"They forget because they want to. The truth hurts, so they choose not to feel it. That means giving up part of who they are."  
She gestured towards his chest. "That pain you're feeling. It means you're alive. It takes strength to accept that."

Bucky smiled darkly. "I'm not exactly new to that concept." Gamora cast him a questioning glance. "I was ... taken. In another life. They ... got inside my head. Made me into a weapon. Took all my memories, everyone I loved. I've fought against that all my life. Learned that pain means being me. And I'd always choose that over chains."  
Gamora nodded slowly. "I know the feeling."

It hurt like hell.

He missed ... life. Steve. His boyfriend. He missed his hut and his goats and T'challa and Shuri and the beautiful sunsets.  
Bucky wondered if he would ever see that again. There was a chance that Steve was here too, taken by the soul stone, but something told him he wasn't. For one, because he had seen him, standing in fron of him, very much alive, heard him speak his name. He hadn't faded the way Bucky had.  
And then, of course, because that was what Thanos had threatened: Half the universe. And half of him was missing. Seperated, again.

But, if that was true, if Steve was still alive, out there in his universe, then there was still hope.  
If there was one thing that Bucky knew about Steve Rogers, it was that he would never give up.

Steve would save them.

He hoped.


	8. 08 - Mirrors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> aftermath of the Infinity War; bit of angst, bit of fluff

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.

.

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"... Steve."

Bucky took a step forward, surprised to feel the weight if his own body again.  
He was vaguely aware of shouting and crying around him, as some people reunited with loved ones, and others grieved for the loss of theirs.  
The man standing in front of him was all that mattered. His blue eyes wide in shock, his face weathered by pain and war. He was covered in blood and dirt, his plain armour torn. He stared, motionless.

"Steve?" Bucky said again, taking another step, his hands stretched out, like he was calming a frightened animal.  
The Nomad dropped to his knees, his head lowering, tangled hair falling into his face. He was shaking. Something about him was ... alien. Broken and empty.  
Moving slowly, Buck kneeled down, his hand carefully touching his shoulder.  
"It's gonna be okay. I'm here." He said softly.

Steve collapsed into him, wordlessly, tears running down his cheeks. He remained in Bucky's arms for what felt like hours. And Bucky held him, not moving, not speaking, just pressing him against his chest, his arms wrapped tightly around him.  
The other's moved around them, more shouting, more crying. There was a blonde woman, flying around, shouting orders. Her armour glowed almost golden in the setting sun.  
Bucky closed his eyes. He didn't want to see or hear anything else. Just Steve.

The men stayed like that, curled up in the mud, until the fields emptied and the sun disappeared behind the mountains.  
For a while, it was completely quiet. Just the sound of their breathing and the beating of their hearts.  
Then, footsteps approached, slowly and carefully.

"It is getting cold. You should come inside." A warm voice said softly. "The other's are inside the palace as well. But you don't have to." T'Challa carefully placed a few blankets on the ground beside them and retreated again, footsteps fading into the starry night.  
Bucky moved carefully, drawing a blanket over Steve. "What do you say? Wanna go inside?" He pulled him up, letting him lean on his shoulder. Still no eye contact. Picking up the other blankets, wrapping them around himself and Steve, Bucky guided them through the dark, towards the palace.

It wasn't the reunion he had dreamt up in his mind. The heartwarming scene he had played in his head, again and again, filled with joy and hugging.  
This was reality. Where war and loss left people broken in a way that love alone couldn't fix.

They reached the palace, where a guard showed them a side door, leading them into a small chamber. T'Challa was sitting on the ground, cradling his sister in his arm, his girlfriend asleep on a floormat next to him. The room was filled with people, some of them familiar, huddled together, some of them curled up in sleep, others whispering softly. He recognized Natasha, who was sitting on a window sill, watching him quietly. Sam was next to her, greeting him with a curt nod.

Bucky's eyes drifted through the room. His chest tightened when he saw Tony, but the man didnt pay attention, he was staring into the distance, his eyes haunted. Next to him was a kid, a young boy, curled up on a bed, one hand clutching Tony's. He saw Wanda and Vision, arm in arm, asleep as well. Three other men he didn't recognize.

Shuri moved in her brother's lap, smiling at him as she pushed herself up. "Welcome back, White Wolf." She whispered kindly.  
"Will you stay with us?" T'Challa asked. " We have other rooms available, but I cannot promise that one might be empty, we have offered refuge to everyone who is lost or scared after the war. Happens to be almost everyone."

"We'll be fine." Bucky said. "Thank you." He guided Steve to a free mattress that the king pointed to. Still shaking slightly, Steve curled up, burying his head in Bucky's jacket. He ran his hands up and down his back, stroking his hair softly. To his relief, Steve's breathing was slowing down, he stopped shaking, and the pained expression on his face relaxed as he drifted off into sleep.

 

Bucky gently pulled Steve into the bathroom. "Come on," he said kindly, "you're filthy." He closed the door behind them, starting by taking off his own clothes.  
Steve just stared. Not at him, at the distance.

He had looked at him a few times since he had woken up. First when he opened his eyes, drowsy from sleep. Later when Bucky had encouraged him to eat his breakfast. Another time when he had suggested they'd get cleaned up, so T'Challa could get their bed done properly. But he never held his gaze. He flinched away everytime their eyes met.

"I'll take these off, okay?" Bucky whispered, carefully unzipping the armour, removing the padding and the many belts. To his surprise, Steve helped, taking off his pants and boots, voluntarily stepping into the large shower. He pulled Bucky into it with him.

The warm water ran over their bodies, turning dark with dust, mud and dried blood. Bucky gently ran his hands over Steve's skin, wiping off the grime and dirt. There was a faint network of scars on his chest and back and shoulders, and a few more down by his stomach. His healing had slowed down. He vaguely remembered the same happening to him when he got older and Hydra's botched version of the serum started to wear off ever so slighty. It would take it many more decades for it to disappear completely, he knew that. But maybe, in a better world, they'd be able to grow old together. Live a normal life. That seemed like an impossible fantasy now, as he cleaned dried blood off the broken shell of the man he loved.

"Warn me if I hurt you." Bucky said softly, taking the sponge and the bar of soap.  
He didn't notice Steve watching him while he wasn't looking. His eyes carefully eyed him, the long hair stuck to his face, water dripping down the curve of his jaw.

Steve reached out, running his fingers through Bucky's hair, stroking it out of his face. He let his fingertips follow the drops of water running down the scarred skin.  
"You could make yourself more useful, Rogers." Bucky laughed. Steve smiled back. He held his gaze for a few heartbeats.

Steve rinsed Bucky's long hair before cleaning his own, his movements shy and hesitant.  
Even after all traces of the battlefield where gone, they stayed, hot water running over them, bubbles dancing on their skin, flying through the air around them.  
They kept touching, running their fingers over each other's skin, tracing muscles and scars. It wasnt sexual, just intimate, gentle, trying to take in the reality of being back.   
Together.

 

"You look better! Less street-rat and more ... puppy." Natasha commented, as they joined the others on the small balcony outside their chamber, dressed in new clothes, damp hair hanging into their faces. She gestured to sit with her. Bucky joined her on the bench, Steve sitting down by his side, his hand tightly folded around Bucky's.

He had been very intend on not leaving his side for even a minute. Bathroom breaks had been hard to manage, but aside from that, Bucky understood.  
His own way of healing after trauma, coping with the damage Hydra had done to his brain, had been running and hiding, cutting himself off from everyone. But Steve wasn't like that. He loved people. Needed them.

"So, what did I miss?" Bucky said, watching the children play on the grass below them. Lighthearted and gleeful as ever.  
Natasha followed his gaze, her eyes losing focus as she told him about the aftermath of Thanos' victory.

The short version: The world had fallen into quiet grief. It had just stopped turning. For a while they had thought all was lost, there was nothing they could do. Until Captain Marvel showed up. She built them back up, gave them hope. So they went into battle, managed to trap Thanos in the soul stone, releasing the souls he had claimed for himself. The stone, so the Captain had explained, was sentinent, he could chose his own loyalties. And so the lost souls returned. All over the world, people appeared out of smoke and fog. Looking the same, sounding the same, but changed. Captain Marvel had started traveling the globe, determined to bring everyone back to their loved ones. T'Challa, who had been one of the lost souls, had immediately called to open the gates of the palace and let anyone who had nowhere to go stay in it's chambers until the situation was resolved. Only after he had made sure everyone else was safe had he taken the time to let the shock sink in, reunite with his family, settling down again. Something about the Black Panther's powers, his connection to his ancestors and whatever spirits guided them, had stopped him from losing himself in his mind like many others did. Everyone in their team that got taken by the soul stone had been spared, Wanda because part of her power came from one of the stones, Peter, the boy Bucky had seen next to Stark, had been protected by Stephen Strange, who was a strange looking wizard guy, he hadnt stayed after returning to earth, just rushed off to his home.

"Today, you didn't miss much." Nat ended. "Everyone's just trying to adjust. Shuri's trying to figure out if she can use the technology that fixed your mind to help the people that got lost in the Soul World."  
Bucky nodded slowly. "Maybe everything does happen for a reason." He felt Steve move next to him, watched him get up slowly and walk over to the edge of the balcony, watching the children play. Something about their gleeful laughter seemed to relax him. His shoulders where less tense, his hands unclenched by his side.

"He hasn't talked." Nat said quietly. "Not spoken a single word since he lost you." There was kindness in her voice, sympathy.  
"He will need time." Bucky said. "I can only imagine what it's been like for those left behind. And he's lost so much."  
"If he never speaks again?"  
"I will take care of him. I always have."  
Nat smiled, following Steve, placing a hand on his back whispering to him. Steve seemed to listen intently, nodding slowly. Bucky wondered if Natasha had taken care of him during the war, like she always had when he wasn't around. One day he'd have to ask them what their story was. Where their special bond came from. He was grateful for it.

"Hey, you're the W-" A voice called with an edge of excitement, breaking mid-sentence. "Uhm, you're ... we've met."  
Bucky turned around to the young boy he had seen next to Stark. Peter, he remembered. The voice did sound familiar. The boy was wringing his hands awkwardly.  
"It's Bucky." He said kindly, gesturing to the free spot on the bench. "I don't recall...?"  
"Oh yeah, sorry, of course!" The kid stammered, still not sitting down, just bouncing around on the spot. "I'm - uhr - Spiderman. The - The guy from the airport, with the ... webs. I, uhm, I'm really sorry about that, by the way." He bit his lip nervously.

Bucky laughed. That battle in Berlin seemed like a lifetime away now. "It's okay, kid, you where just following orders. You couldn't know."  
Peter took a deep breath, tension beginning to fall from his shoulders. "Yeah I really thought - I mean, I read all the comics, right, so I knew you, I mean about Captain America's sidekick and so I knew about you, kinda, but at the airport I had no idea, it was you, Mr Stark just said you're a bad guy and I was like 'Why would Captain America side with a bad guy?' But he told me not to ask questions and I really wanted to meet him -" He ran out of air and inhaled deeply again.  
"Aaaaanyway, I'm a big fan, really!" He said, finally dropping on the bench.  
Bucky looked at him in surprise. "Fan?" he cocked his head to the side.  
The kid nodded. "Of course! You're awesome! They say you worked three jobs when you where my age to keep Cap- I mean, Steve, I guess, safe and buy medicine and that you protected him when he got into trouble, and then later you followed him into the war and you fought side by side and - I kind of realized a while back that a Superhero is more than mutated genes and fancy suits." He grinned awkwardly, blushing. "So you're kind of my hero, too."

Bucky stared, unexpected warmth spreading in his chest. He could see the boy meant it, admiration glittering in his big eyes as he stared back.  
"I - Thank you." He said hoarsely. "That means alot, actually." There was something else in Peter's expression. Something about him that spoke of more pain and terror than a child his age should know. He remembered what Nat had told him. "You where taken by the Soul Stone too, wheren't you?"  
Peter nodded. "It was terrible in there. Like I knew something was wrong but I couldn't tell what. I thought I was gonna lose myself in there, but then Strange showed up and helped me out. Tought me how to hold on to memories. Was the scariest thing I ever had to do. Thought about my parents and Uncle Ben and my Aunt May who would be all alone without me. It hurt like hell."

Bucky placed a hand on the kid's shoulder. "I know. That takes alot of strength. You're a really hero, Peter." The boy smiled. "Where's your aunt now?"  
"Still in New York. She's coming over when everything's settled down. The Captain asked if I wanted to get to her but I wanted to stay here, with the others. For now. We skyped though, she's safe."

Bucky cast a glance over to Steve. He realized he was using sign language, signing single, simple words, Nat answering the same way. He wondered when Steve had learned that.

"He's traumatized, isn't he?" Peter asked.  
"Something like that." Bucky said.  
"Will he be okay again?"  
"I don't know. He's been through so much. There's only so much a mind can take, even with the Serum." He shook his head sadly. "But I'll be there for him. Not leaving his side ever again." He watched Steve fondly. Funny. To him he'd always be that skinny kid from Brooklyn, at least a part of him would. Steve had non-verbal days back then,too, he remembered now. When he had been too weak to speak or his asthma was taking his breath. It explained why it had been so easy for Bucky to communicate with Steve, read his body language, follow his eye movements and just being with him.

Peter looked at him intently, his eyes darting between Bucky and Steve. "Hmhmm makes sense, I supposed..." He breathed quietly.  
"What does?" Bucky asked, tearing his gaze away from Steve.  
"The two of you, together." He said simply, without judgement or surprise. There was a strange wisdom about him, that surpassed his age.  
"You're a smart kid." Bucky said warmly. He didn't see a point in hiding his feelings anymore, not when they'd been the one thing keeping him sane for ... well basically decades.  
"So I've been told."Peter chuckled. "Actually kinda awesome, gay superheroes, that's like, badass! Will mean alot to kids who're scared to come out."

Bucky arched his brow at him. Something about the kid was equally endearing and irritating. He was impressed by how much energy the boy was still radiating, still so full of joy and hope, despite the horrors he'd been through just a day ago. There was something about him that reminded him a bit of Steve when they where both that age. The difference being that Peter seemed like a clever kid and Steve had always been the biggest idiot.

"Gay superheroes..." He said, amused. "There's a comic book series for ya." For a moment, he wondered how people would react to the former Patriot turned fugitive dating a former Nazi sniper. From what Bucky had seen and heard, things where different than they'd been when he last was carefree enough to date. Back then it would've been a death sentence for sure. Sometimes he wondered if that was why he had made such a show of dating a new gorgeous girl every week. He shook his head. From now on, no one else would come between him and Steve. Too much had happened.

"I would read that." Peter said happily, tearing Bucky out of his thoughts. He glanced over to Steve, than back at Bucky. Buck decided he liked him.

Nat returned, gently pulling his idiot boyfriend with her. "He wants to get out of here." She said, nodding over to the mountains. "You should take him for a walk."  
Steve made two hand movements. Bucky cast Nat a questioning glance.  
She grinned. "Not. Puppy." She translated. "Remember to put his tag on in case he goes missing!"

 

There was no talking, just quietly left the castle, making their way over the fields into the forest. People where buzzing around, shouting, crying, gesturing wildly. Not everyone had the luxury of letting the past events sink in slowly, like they did in the castle. Farmers and guards and warriors had to keep working. Bucky wondered if he should have been with them. Like he had before, after the rain storm. That time felt a world away now.

The sun was burning down on them, making the air seem blurry. Their hands felt sweaty and hot but Steve refused to let go. His shoulders where tense, his eyes darted around nervously, he moved like a scared kitten, jerking his head around at every noise. Only when they had reached the woods, large trees casting their shadows, drowning out the buzz and noise. Beams of sunlight danced before them, branches rustled in the wind. Slowly, Steve began to relax, taking his time to take in the view, bathing in the atmosphere.

Bucky knew where to take Steve. There was a small river snaking through the woods and at some point it flowed through a clearing where some kids had build a small fort out of branches and grass, decorated it with scraps of fabric and ribbons. Bucky had found it on one of this long walks and ended up playing Farmers with the kids all day. He was their trusty horse, letting them ride on his back and helping them pull "heavy" branches and rocks as they decorated the place. They had told them he was welcome to use their hideout anytime. He was very grateful for it now.

As they reached the clearing, Bucky gently guided Steve into the ball of branches and fabric, sitting down in it's entrance with a view on the water. The sun was making the surface glitter, spots of light dancing on the dark blue like a more gleeful version of a night sky. Insects where buzzing over it. Leaves rustled in the wind. The air smelled like summer and sunshine and heat. It was so painfully peaceful, no trace of the destruction and suffering that had taken place all around the universe.

Bucky lifted Steve's hand, kissing it softly, running his fingers over his knuckled. It was such a simple gesture but it felt so intimate and gentle, it almost hurt. Steve took Bucky's hand and imitated him. His lips felt warm and soft on his skin. His beard tickled. Bucky's heart felt like it would burst with affection. He reached out his other hand, the vibranium one, but then hesitated, staring at the shiny, strange material. He retreated it, hiding it back under the scarf that was wrapped over his shoulder. Steve shook his head softly, taking the metal hand into his own and placed it on his chest. Somehow, Bucky could feel the warmth of Steve's skin and the rhythm of his heart beating strongly under his palm. He made a mental note to hug Shuri and never let her go.

He noticed Steve was looking at him, watching him curiously. Bucky looked up, meeting his gaze. Steve kept looking, his eyes seemed to stare right into his soul, like he was searching for something or maybe he had found it. Bucky could feel him shaking, heartbeat speeding up under his hand.  
A million words rushed through his mind. Words of affection, words of encouragement, memories, jokes, apologies, hopes and dreams. So many things he wanted to say, wanted to make it all okay, let Steve know he was save and things would be alright, that Bucky would be there for him, no matter what.  
He realized that, in that storm of thoughts and words and emotions, there was only one thing that mattered.

"I love you so much, Steve." He said. It felt like the most natural thing in the world. His throat felt tight with emotion as he realized how much he meant it. He'd always known it, always felt it with every touch, every whispered secret, every night curling up in bed and hoping for a better world tomorrow, he had loved the skinny, sick boy in Brooklyn and he loved the broken, scarred man in Wakanda.  
Steve blinked, his hand tightening around Bucky's. He drew a deep breath, his lips shaping words in a soundless whisper. He swallowed hard.  
"I love you, Buck." Steve rasped, voice cracking from disuse. He pressed his forehead against Bucky's, closing his eyes, letting silent tears roll down his cheek.

There was nothing else to say.

It was just Steve and Bucky, Bucky and Steve, as it had always been and would be forever.  
No matter what the world would throw at them.  
No matter how cruel the universe was.  
They would remain.

Until the end of the line.


	9. 09 - Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A short epilogue about the aftermath of the War.

The next months passed in a blur.  
The people had to heal. The world needed to be rebuild.  
In the aftermath of the horrible war, new heroes rose to get them through it.  
A new team of Avengers, lead by Captain America.

She had talked about re-establishing S.H.I.E.L.D. or at least an organization similiar to what it had been.  
People followed her, trusting blindly, desperate to give their misery into some else's hands and she took the burden gladly.

Tony Stark promised to lay down his armour once and for all. He remained a consultant and trainer for the new Avengers, but spent most of his days in a humble cottage with Pepper.

Natasha and Sam took a long vacation together, Sam teaching Nat a way to live without death waiting behind every door.  
They couldn't stay away from the occasional small job but they remained the in the same house most of the time, with an ordinary kitchen and an ordinary garden and a not-so-ordinary shooting range in the basement.

Steve turned down her offer to rejoin the Avengers. He hadn't talked much beyond those four words he had whispered to Bucky in the silent privacy of the forest. As weeks had passed by, he had slowly started to leave Bucky out of his sight for a few moments, though he still didn't sleep without him by his side. The only times he spoke was when they where alone, hidden from the rest of the world, in moments of intimacy and trust. It was never more than a few words of affection. But they didn't need more than that.

Bucky had taken his place as farmer again. He loved to get lost in the simple handywork, it felt so simple and normal. Steve liked the goats. He liked cows even more, so they expanded their little farm.  
The children came over to play and listen to their stories. Steve taught them how to draw, helped them tell stories with comic panels and paintings. Bucky let them ride on his back and pretended to hunt them with sticks, rolling on his back, moaning in pretend-pain while they jumped around on him.

He had realized he had left part of him behind in the Soul World, in some way, at least. Ever since he had returned to the universe, the part of him that was the Winter Soldier seemed ... dead. Of course, Shuri had removed the effects of the brainwashing, but the memories had still been there, the pain and terror that haunted him day and night.  
But when he disappeared into the gem, his mind holding on to the part of him that was Bucky Barnes, that was Steve's best friend, that loved him and missed his family and wanted to live, he had killed the part of him that wasnt ... him.

Bucky still remembered who he had been. In distant words. Like a story someone else told him. The pictures where gone. He finally felt like he could be himself again, start over, live a normal life at last.

T'Challa had said as much when he insisted Bucky and Steve stayed in Wakanda as long as they wanted.  
When the UN came looking for them, remembereing that the people who had fought for their safety when all seemed lost where war criminals, the king had stood in their way. He defended their actions during the Civil War, he called them heroes, told their story, of the war and of HYDRA and of their friendship that broke through all the darkness in their path and conquered death itself. With Shuri's help, T'Challa spread the message all over the world.  
Within hours, #justiceForCaptainAmerica was trending. People rioted. They demanded Steve Rogers was given back his status as patriot and hero.

Bucky was moved to see how much people cared. Even though it was manly Captain America they defended, unsure what to think of the Winter Soldier, he was still glad that the hero Steve had believed in so much was still in people's hearts.

It didn't take long for officials to give in. Steve Rogers and James Buchanan Barnes where cleared and announced heroes, together with the others who fought Thanos and his army.

The ceremony took place at the palace in Wakanda, as a sign of respect for the country's role in the world that was build from the ashes.  
It was loud and crowded, with cameras and microphones and people shouting their names.  
Steve was tense and shaky, holding Bucky's hand tightly, his face set and hardened while pretentious politicians spoke of peace and humanity, until Shuri faked technical issues to get them to stop.

The princess herself spoke well. She explained her work on Bucky's brain and how the technology could help war veterans and other people suffering from PTSD in their recovery. She spoke of kindness and forgiveness, of a new start for the world, a chance to be a better place.

When they went up on the stage to get their medals, spotlights burning their skin, reporter's yells booming in their ears, Steve made a spontanious decision:  
As soon as the badges where pinned to their jackets, he pulled Bucky close, hands cupping his face, and kissed him, deeply and urgingly. When he pulled back, he smiled mischievously, took Bucky's hand and dragged him off the stage. They ran, away from the crowds and the screaming, until they where back in their little hut, laughing and kissing and getting lost in each other.

The hashtag #stucky almost broke the internet.

.

.

.

He almost tripped over the damn toy. They where lying around everywhere these days, like booby traps all around the house, accidents waiting to happen. Sometimes Bucky wondered if he was gonna lose a leg one day, to match his damn arm.  
"You're gonna kill someone with these." He sighed, waving the squeaky ball around. The German Sheppard at his feet kept snoring. Big use he was, less of an aid with the livestock and more of an annoyance with people. But Steve loved the damn dog, so Bucky did, too.

He carried the plate outside, placing it gently on the wooden table, careful not to spill anything.  
Steve watched him, grinning. He signed. /You. Cleaning. More. /  
Bucky still wasnt good with the sign language thing, so he only understood the most basic words.  
He stuck out his tongue. Universal language.

Cradling his steaming coffee in his hands, he leaned back and took in the view. Even after all this time, it was still breathtaking. The palace was visible, in the distance, gleaming in the pinkish light of the rising sun. The animals where grazing lazily, somewhere down the hill he could hear children laugh. The air smelled of summer and heat and rain.

"Beautiful." Steve said softly. His eyes where resting on Bucky.

Bucky rolled his eyes and laughed. "You're so cheesy."

He sat down his coffee and skillfully jumped on Steve's lap, his legs folded around Steve's back, their noses touching slightly. Steve arched his brow, amused. He reached up and ran his fingers through the long, dark hair. It was cut regularly now, but never shorter than shoulder-length. He like this new Bucky. He was happier than the post-winter soldier Bucky, happier even than the tortured soldier Bucky in the 40s.

Steve was a happier Steve as well. His Captain America days where long gone and he didn't miss them. They'd been lonely, most of the time. This was peaceful, sharing every day with the man who'd been there for him all his life. He kissed Bucky's forehead softly. It was Bucky's favourite spot to be kissed, always sent a slight shiver through him.

They still woke up from nightmares, sometimes. They still had days where their past caught up with them. But those days where rare and if they came, they had each other.

Bucky sighed, nustling his head against Steve's neck, gently kissing the exposed skin.  
"You are beautiful." He murmured. He felt Steve chuckle.

Their breakfast was forgotten.

They got los in each other, in soft kisses and gentle touch, that got more and more demanding. They had 70 years to catch up to, after all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we go!  
> This story really went further than I thought it would, I originally intended to write just a few thousand words of one-shots, but the story took over and here we are.  
> There's still a bunch of situations and storylines that I wanna tell that didn't fit into this fic, so I will probably start a new story soon.  
> I do hope you enjoyed this one and that it helped you heal after the trauma Marvel had left us with. It certainly helped me.


End file.
